


Steady on His Feet

by BrighamVaughn



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighamVaughn/pseuds/BrighamVaughn
Summary: Buck has been in love with Eddie for over a year but isn't willing to risk their friendship to tell him. When they end up sharing a bed at a conference, Buck finally  breaks.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 44
Kudos: 1423





	Steady on His Feet

**Author's Note:**

> This is set post-tsunami. Buck has fully recovered from his injury and is back with the team, Eddie's street fighting never happened, and Bosko isn't with the 118. Everything else should be canon. 
> 
> Edited by: Sally Hopkinson

Buck wakes slowly to a pounding headache and a tongue that’s thick in his mouth. He's also warm, much too warm, and weighted down. He shifts a little and realizes it's because there's a muscular body pinning him to the mattress.

He opens his eyes and squints into the dark room, trying to pull his thoughts together. It’s a man in bed with him, he's sure of that. He's shared a bed with men plenty of times before, and there's no mistaking the heavy limbs and long body that's stretched full-length against his. There’s a soft warm breath on his cheek and toes tangled with his. The arm draped across Buck’s chest and the thigh weighing his legs down are heavily muscled, and the chest pressed to his side is flat and hard with enough hair to tickle.

It's been a long time since Buck has shared a bed with anyone though, male or female. Other than the man’s body heat making him sweat, it's a nice feeling. But as the pieces slowly start to come together, his already-queasy stomach drops. Because he knows exactly who is in the bed with him.

Eddie Diaz.

They’ve shared a bed before but not like this, and it takes Buck a minute to figure out how the hell they ended up here.

***

"I'm sorry, sir, we seem to have a problem with your reservation." The receptionist taps away at the keyboard, her shiny red nails flashing with reflected light from the ceiling. "I only show one guest booked for that room. A Mr. Evan Buckley."

"Yeah, that's me." He leans his arms on the slick granite counter and flashes a smile at her. "But there was supposed to be another guest. Eddie Diaz. We expected to share a room, but we, uh, were told there would be two queen size beds,” Buck explains.

Eddie's arm presses against his. It's warm and solid, and for a moment, Buck thinks, _Why not just share the bed? _Except there're a thousand reasons why that would be a terrible idea. But mostly because he's not sure he can trust himself to share a bed with Eddie. Not when his head has been tumbling with thoughts of Eddie since the tsunami. Longer than that—since they met really—but it’s been impossible for him to think of anything else since then.

"What's the holdup here, Buckaroo?" Chimney pokes his head between Buck and Eddie's.

"There’s a problem with the reservation."

It's a good thing Eddie answers because Buck's brain is just not on board when Eddie's touching him. Even if it’s casual. He looks down at their arms and sees their tattoos. With their forearms pressed together like this, they line up perfectly. Buck remembers the night they got them. Eddie’s suggestion to get tattoos had come out of nowhere. Buck had just stared at him in shock. Not the idea of getting tattoos so much—they each had a few already—but Eddie’s suggestion that they get ones on the same spot on their forearms. Buck’s is just two simple, narrow bands, and Eddie’s is Christopher’s name and birthdate. Not matching but complimentary. Like Eddie and him. He knows he’s probably reading too much into it and that it doesn’t have the same meaning to Eddie as it does to him, but it feels like some sort of tangible link between them.

"Well, hurry up with the reservation. I want to get up to the room," Chimney grumbles under his breath as he retreats, muttering to Maddie about having to wait. Buck doesn't want to think about why his sister's boyfriend is so eager to get up to the hotel room with her. She’s not even going to the firefighting conference Buck, Eddie, and Chimney are attending, but the couple has turned it into a vacation. He’s happy for them, really, but it’s awkward enough having his co-worker and sibling date. He doesn’t want to think about their sex life. But Buck has bigger issues to deal with at the moment. Like the possibility of sharing a bed with his best friend. Who he’s desperately in love with.

"I'm very sorry." The woman looks up from her screen and gives him and Eddie an apologetic smile. "We're fully booked because of the conference. I checked, but I’m afraid I don't have any other rooms available.”

Of course, they don’t. Because this is what Buck already needs when his self-control feels like a frayed wire about to snap and send him plummeting to his death.

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie sounds unconcerned as he smiles back at the receptionist. “We’ve shared a bed before, right, Buck?”

Her eyes widen a little as if she’s imagining them in bed together. The problem is Buck’s imagining it too. But Eddie doesn’t mean it like _that,_ and Buck’s stomach goes hollow when he pictures spending a night in a bed with Eddie. He’s never wanted someone so much before. Sex has never been difficult for him. He’s had sex with nearly everyone who’s crossed his path whom he’s ever wanted, but it never meant much until Abby. He’s slowed way down since her—focused on dating rather than emotionless fucking—but he’s never _wanted_ anyone like this. Not even Abby after she left to travel the world. He missed her, sure. He loved her—he really did, but he’s never felt as shaken up and needy as he does now whenever he’s around Eddie.

“Buck.” The sounds of Eddie’s voice and his warm palm against Buck’s mid-back make him jerk in surprise, and he blinks, unsure what he’s missed while his brain has been off thinking about stuff he shouldn’t be thinking about. “Your credit card?” Eddie prompts.

Buck nods automatically and reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. He goes through the motions of finding his card and handing it over, and it’s a good thing he can function on auto-pilot because Eddie’s still standing very close, and Buck can smell his body wash—he knows it’s Eddie’s body wash because he’s showered in Eddie’s bathroom before—and goddamn it, how in the hell is he going to make it through an entire night of lying in a bed next to Eddie half-dressed when he can’t even function standing up and fully clothed? With his _sister_ two feet away?

Somehow, Buck pulls it together long enough to get their room keys and carry his bag up to the room. But then they’re _in_ the room, and Eddie flops on the bed and grins up at Buck. “So, what do you want to do tonight? The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow, so we’ve got a little time to kill. Might as well enjoy our freedom before we’re eyeballs deep in fire safety.”

His shirt has ridden up on his torso, and Buck has a glimpse of the eight-pack that he's been drooling over from the first day they met. He might have felt threatened by Eddie when he joined the 118, but it wasn’t all dislike. From the very first second he clapped eyes on Eddie, he's felt like he's tumbling head over heels into something very dangerous. Something guaranteed to break his heart. 

Now, Buck can't stop staring at the slice of soft brown skin over hard muscle. It’s topped by fine dark hair trailing down from Eddie’s navel. Buck's spent a lot of time thinking about how he _shouldn't_ be thinking about how that hair would feel against his tongue. His gaze is glued to the spot, and there's no way in hell Eddie won't notice. Buck knows he has to look away before it becomes obvious, but he can't. He simply can’t make his body do what his brain is telling him.

"Buck?" He blinks as Eddie sits up, resting his forearm on his updrawn knee. "Are you okay? You've seemed off all day."

Buck grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe it's just the time change or something." They're in New York for this conference, and the three-hour time difference from L.A. is a good excuse, right?

Eddie scrutinizes his face, his brown eyes worried. "Are you sure that's all? Honestly, since the tsunami, you've seemed ... different. I know you’re seeing a therapist for all that, but if you want to talk about it with me, you know I’m always here for you.”

"I know you are. Thanks. And yeah, I did have trouble sleeping for a while after it," Buck admits. "Still adjusting, maybe. Hey, how's Christopher doing? Are his nightmares going away?"

Eddie's expression softens at the mention of his son. "Yeah, he's doing a lot better. He hasn't had a bad dream in a couple of weeks."

"I'm glad." And Buck means it. Because he loves Christopher at least as much as he loves Eddie. He still doesn't understand how Eddie forgave him for losing Christopher that day but he has. And Buck is struck dumb with gratitude for it. It'll take him a hell of a lot longer to forgive himself, but as long as Eddie has, that's all that matters.

The problem is when you're in a situation like that, even when you're trained to handle natural disasters like Buck is, your life really _does_ flash before your eyes. And all Buck could see that day was Eddie. Him and Eddie, and Christopher of course, and goddamn it, he wants that. He's spent so many evenings sprawled on the couch at the Diaz's house. It doesn't matter if they're watching a kids' cartoon or a game. It doesn't matter if Eddie's forgotten to grab beer or the popcorn is burnt.

It's perfect.

Because when Buck's there, he’s with the only people aside from his sister who have ever made him feel like he's found his home. And at the end of the night, after he or Eddie have tucked Christopher into bed, Buck doesn't want to go back to his own apartment. Sometimes, he doesn't. Sometimes, he pretends he's too drunk or too tired to drive, and Eddie never argues. He makes up a bed on the couch and cooks Buck pancakes or scrambled eggs in the morning. And he must know that Buck is faking it but he never calls him out on it. Not once. Eddie has always made him welcome in his home and his life. And Buck always has a weird ache in his throat when he finally does leave the house, like he's leaving the most important thing in his life behind.

He doesn’t want it to be a part-time home. He wants it to be for the rest of his life.

Buck would move heaven and earth for Eddie and Christopher, but if he tells Eddie how he feels, he risks losing him completely, so he swallows down the words that lay thick in his throat. Instead, he digs down deep and finds that old place inside of him that cared about nothing but a good time, and he shoots Eddie a smile that means nothing. That gives away nothing. "Well, how about we grab a drink? I don't know about you, but it's been too long since I've been able to unwind."

His voice is weird and falsely hearty. Eddie's forehead wrinkles like he knows something is off, but he merely nods and smiles back at him. "Sure, sounds good."

Buck plops onto the chair by the window—because there's no way in hell he can maintain composure if he's any closer—and pulls out his phone. "I'm going to see if there's a place within walking distance."

They find a hole-in-the-wall bar with burgers and pool tables. Buck doesn't mean to drink heavily, but the waitress flirts with Eddie, and he feels the frustration build up in him again. Because he can't stand to see anyone else do what he wants to be doing but can't. It eats him up even as he laughs and jokes with Eddie and the waitress, trying to pretend like there isn't a hole in his heart as he imagines someone else in the place he wants to be.

Because Eddie's amazing in so many ways. When he's ready, he'll have no trouble meeting a woman. But that's the fucking problem. He's straight. And even though Buck knows that his relationship with Eddie is the best relationship either of them have ever had, Eddie doesn't see it the same way Buck does.

When Eddie settles his hand on the booth and lets his arm drape across Buck's shoulders, he's saying “I'm comfortable with you, buddy." But Buck doesn't want to be his _buddy_. He wants to be Eddie's everything. So when he asks the waitress for hot sauce—not because he wants it but because Eddie likes to mix it with his ketchup—he's telling Eddie "I love you."

It's like they speak two different languages now. Eddie speaks friendship, and Buck speaks love. But somehow, Buck has to do this weird mental dance where he translates one to the other. Or maybe that's the problem. Maybe he's doing it backward, hearing Eddie's friend-speak as love.

But he's sick in love with Eddie and has been for more than a year now, and he feels like he might actually lose his mind over it. So he drinks and drinks, and he's so damn grateful when Eddie puts a shoulder under his arm to help him weave his way back to the hotel. He’ll take the opportunity to be close to him however he can get it.

Later, Buck sways in the bathroom, his head fuzzy and muddled as he steps out of the shower. He barely remembers showering, to be honest, but his skin and hair are wet and he smells like ... Eddie's body wash? He sniffs at his skin. _Oops._ Did he mean to use the bottle Eddie had set in the shower earlier or not? He can't remember now. But he dries off haphazardly and drags on a pair of soft sweatpants because he knows that's what he's supposed to do. He doesn't bother with a shirt—he's very warm and his skin is all pink from the heat of the shower—and grabs his clothes from the floor.

When he stumbles out of the bathroom, the bedroom's half dark. Eddie's sitting on the end of the bed, his face illuminated by the TV screen. "They're getting it all wrong," he mutters under his breath. Eddie’s slightly less drunk than Buck but not by a whole lot. Buck has to force himself to look away from Eddie's lips, but when he finally does, he sees one of the popular firefighting shows playing. The inaccuracies drive Eddie up the wall, but Buck secretly enjoys them. Or maybe that’s just the shirtless firefighters he likes to drool over.

"All done in the bathroom?" Eddie asks, glancing up at him. Buck nods robotically. "Cool. I'll hop in real quick then. I smell like airplane and bar, and I know you don’t want to sleep next to that." He carelessly tosses the remote on the white sheet, and all Buck can picture is Eddie sprawled out across it, naked and _his_. Buck climbs into bed and clenches those same bedsheets in his fists to keep from walking into the bathroom while he waits for Eddie to finish his shower. Eventually, exhaustion and alcohol win out though, and he drifts off somewhere between the water turning off and Eddie crawling into bed.

But now, hours later, he's sober, wide-awake, and he knows there's no way he'll fall asleep again. Because he can feel Eddie's skin, hot and bare against his. From what he can tell, Eddie has on a pair of sweatpants too, but he's also foregone a shirt, and Jesus Christ is that skin-on-skin contact good. It's so good it makes absolutely everything in Buck ache. Far more than his cock, though that's hard too. Hard and trapped between his thigh and Eddie's. The pressure is almost unbearable, but it's so painfully _good_ Buck can't make himself move.

He hasn't allowed himself to think about the specifics of what sex with Eddie would be like. Okay, that's kind of a lie because he has considered what Eddie's mouth would taste like and how his cock would feel in his hand. And the way his muscles would flex under Buck's palms. Fine, he’s pictured all of it. But it always seems wrong to fantasize too much about his best friend, even if he is in love with him. Maybe especially because he’s in love with him.

But now, sex with Eddie is all he can think about. He's imagining Eddie's cock in his mouth, in his ass, in every single fucking part of him.

Unable to take another second of it, Buck flips onto his side, dislodging Eddie's tight grip on him. Eddie grumbles in his sleep but his breathing doesn't really change. He does, however, settle his body against Buck's again. They're spooned together now with Eddie's chest plastered to his back. Heat roars through Buck when he realizes Eddie's cock is hard against his ass. It snugs up against him, and when Buck tries to slide away, Eddie murmurs sleepily and tightens his grip around Buck's chest.

It's a king-size bed. Plenty big enough for two people to sleep in without touching, even if they are both men over six feet tall. Buck is right on the edge of the bed, and there's acres of room behind him, yet Eddie's occupying nearly the same space Buck is. It's possibly the best and worst thing Buck's ever experienced.

He knows Eddie's probably just hard because of the proximity to another human. He's asleep so he has no idea who that human is. Plus, it's been a long time since Eddie's had sex. At least, as far as Buck knows. They've always been able to talk openly about things like that though. Eddie told him when he and Shannon stopped having sex and trying to make their marriage work. And Buck knows that even though their romantic relationship was over, Eddie’s been too devastated by her death to date anyone new.

Eddie's not the type for one-night stands; he's told Buck that too. Which means it's been a very long time since he's been with anyone. Buck knows all of this in his brain, but the rest of him wants to believe it's because Eddie's turned on by him. Especially when Eddie's breath ruffles the little hairs on the back of Buck's neck with every exhale and Eddie sighs in his sleep and wedges himself impossibly closer to Buck. Like Eddie is trying to crawl inside him. Buck desperately wishes he would.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his hand into a fist again as if that will somehow magically give him self-control. An ineffective gesture against an impossible task. Eddie's cock is now nestled along the crack of Buck's ass, and even through two layers of fabric, it makes his head spin. Buck doesn't need to imagine what Eddie’s cock would feel like anymore because now he knows. He knows that Eddie is thick and long, and Buck's reminded that it's been a damn long time since he's been fucked by anyone.

His own cock stirs in his pants, brushing against Eddie's elbow.

"Mmm." Eddie lets out a little sound of pleasure in his sleep, and Buck scrunches his eyes tightly shut when he rocks a little against Buck's ass. Eddie’s still asleep, Buck can hear his slow, even breathing, but he's clearly enjoying the contact. Eddie's subconscious doesn't care that it's a man's hard pec he's pressing his palm to rather than a soft, rounded breast. But it kills Buck. Because he wants Eddie to know it's him. He wants it to be _because_ it’s him.

Especially when Eddie's lips press against his shoulder as he squirms closer and the movement of his hips gets more forceful. For a moment, Buck imagines what it would feel like if they were both naked and Eddie was all ready to slide inside of him. Buck draws in a ragged breath as his cock throbs. He wants it so bad he can hardly think of anything else. The only other thought—the one that's stronger in his head than anything else—is that he can't fuck up his friendship with Eddie. Because the one thing that would be worse than having to be Eddie's best friend rather than the man he's in love with is not existing to Eddie at all.

Buck's stuck in a weird sort of limbo right now—trapped between the unbearably wonderful sensation of having Eddie's body wrapped around him and the agony of that exact same thing—but there's nothing he can do. All he can do is lie here and wait for Eddie to roll over to the other side of the bed so they can wake up in the morning and Buck can pretend none of this ever happened. But when Eddie sighs again and grinds his dick against Buck’s ass, Buck just … breaks.

He lets out a groan as he pushes back, but when Eddie lets out a sharp, startled inhale and he goes very still behind Buck, Buck freezes immediately, knowing he’s made a terrible mistake.

"Buck?" Eddie's voice is thick with either sleep or arousal, and there's a confused note to it, like he can't quite figure out how he ended up here in this position.

Buck could play it off, pretend to be dead asleep and confused. Or drunk. But he can’t. Not now.

“Go back to sleep, Eddie,” Buck manages in a choked voice. He throws Eddie’s arm off and staggers out of the bed. He disappears into the bathroom before Eddie can respond. He braces his arms on the counter, but he can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror. _What have I done?_

He clenches his eyes tightly shut when the bathroom door swings open. “What the hell is going on with you, Buck?” Eddie doesn’t sound mad at him. He sounds worried. And maybe that’s worse.

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep,” he says tightly, but it’s clear he’s on the verge of tears, and he knows Eddie won’t stop pushing.

“Bullshit.” Eddie steps close enough that Buck can feel the heat of his body. His own skin is chilled from the hotel’s overzealous climate control and the lack of Eddie’s arms. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on with you. Something’s been wrong since the tsunami, and you need to talk about it. Is it what happened with Christopher? Because I told you I’m not angry at you. I know you did everything you could.”

“It’s not Christopher.” Buck feels brittle, like if Eddie touches him, he’ll shatter. “Just go,” he chokes out. “Give me some space.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You shouldn’t be alone now, Evan.”

Eddie hardly ever calls him Evan, and his words dig deep and worm their way into Buck’s chest. When Eddie’s hand lands on his upper arm, Buck suddenly can’t breathe. He grips the edge of the granite counter until it bites into his palm.

When Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s torso and pulls him flush against his body, Buck lets out a gasp. Eddie’s hugged him before, lots of times. Hell, they’ve seen each other naked in the locker room. They’ve passed out on couches and in beds together. Eddie’s always been an affectionate guy, but his touch has never meant quite so much until tonight. It’s never felt so _intimate._

And now that Buck’s head is swirling with thoughts of Eddie’s smooth brown skin and the press of his cock against the curve of Buck’s ass, it’s so much worse. Because he_ needs _Eddie. In a lot of ways that Eddie would probably be shocked and horrified by. Not that Eddie’s homophobic—he’s not; he’s never been anything but kind to Hen and Karen—but that doesn’t mean Eddie wants to know how many times Buck has lain in bed at night, stroking his cock and thinking about how Eddie’s mouth would taste or what that gorgeous body could do to him.

Eddie’s straight and that’s fine, but Buck is definitely not. And it’s been _months_ since Buck thought about anything but hard muscles and large hands and stubble scraping the back of his neck as Eddie bites down and … Is that Eddie’s cock he can feel right now? It’s not hard like it was earlier, but it’s definitely not a phone in his pocket either.

Buck isn’t brittle anymore. He feels hot, like he’s boiling from the inside out and his skin is scorching and melting off, yet Eddie’s arms are even warmer and his palm singes Buck’s chest. And, Jesus, Eddie must have noticed the way Buck’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t do anything. He just holds him while Buck stands there, gripping the counter, grateful for Eddie’s arms around him because they’re the only thing holding him up.

Eddie rests his chin on Buck’s shoulder, and without thinking, Buck tilts his own head so their temples are pressed together. And now he can feel Eddie’s stubble—just a little—as it brushes his cheek. He can smell him too, that familiar smell that mixes so well with the smoke that often clings to his skin. But now, there’s no smoke, just a clean soapiness that smells like home.

Not a home Buck’s ever had but the home he wants. The little house with him and Christopher, but goddamn it, that’s not _his_ home. He’s slept in Eddie’s bed before—fully clothed and totally platonic of course—but it’s not _his_ bed. It’s Eddie’s. Where the ghost of his wife lies. And all of the women who will be in Eddie’s future. Because just because Eddie hasn’t moved on yet doesn’t mean he won’t. He will. Goddamn it, he will, and it will break Buck’s heart because he’s never loved anyone the way he loves the man who has his arms wrapped around him and who has no idea what the turmoil inside Buck’s mind is like.

And, oh shit, is he crying? _Fuck_. Buck wipes at his cheeks with his free hand, and he realizes his other hand isn’t clutching the counter anymore—it’s clutching Eddie’s muscled forearm—and Jesus, he’s a fucking mess. He just wishes Eddie would leave.

Except he doesn’t. He doesn’t want Eddie to leave, ever. He wants to stay like this until he’s an old, old man.

“Talk to me, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is rough, like he’s trying to hold himself together too. “Tell me how to help you.”

“You can’t help me!” The words burst out of Buck’s mouth before he can stop them, and he tries to loosen Eddie’s grip, but his arm is too tightly clenched for Buck to shake off. “You can’t … you can’t fucking help me, Eddie!”

“Why the hell not?” It’s a growl of frustration and anger, and he’s reminded that although Eddie’s one of the gentlest men he knows, he’s also a former soldier. Even if he keeps it tightly checked, there’s a potential for violence lurking underneath the calm. It’s focused violence, and he’s never seen Eddie lose that control, but he could. Especially when he finds out that the man he thinks of as his friend has been lying to him.

Is that how it’ll end then? In a bathroom in a New York hotel room? Fists flying, blood spattering onto the mirror? The friendship torn to shreds like Buck’s heart after Eddie pushes him away? Because Buck’s realized he can’t keep this up. He can’t keep pretending anymore. He can’t lie to Eddie or the rest of the firehouse about his feelings for Eddie anymore. He’ll explode if he does. He’ll lose his shit in the middle of a call, and he’ll endanger civilians not to mention all of the people he cares about most. Maybe even Eddie himself.

Buck swallows hard and stops fighting. Eddie goes still too, and the room is eerily silent, except for the hum of the air conditioner in the other room, as Buck figures out how to tell him. But what can he say except the bare truth?

“I love you, Eddie.” The words are neither quiet nor loud. They’re not a demand or a plea but a stated fact. “I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I haven’t been able to think about anything else for a long time.”

He expects Eddie to let go of him immediately, drop his arms like he’s been scorched, but he stands there instead, very still.

“I love you too, Buck.”

It hurts to hear those words when he knows Eddie doesn’t mean them the same way he does. Their translation dictionary is broken. “I don’t mean it the same way you do.” Buck draws in a ragged breath. “I know you’re straight, and I get it. You can’t return my feelings—not the way I mean them—but I am so in love with you, Eddie, and I don’t know how to stop.”

His tone is anguished now because it hurts him knowing that this is going to hurt Eddie. It’s going to make him doubt every moment of the previous interactions. It’s probably going to make him question all of his friendships with men for a while. Buck’s head is buzzing so loudly with these thoughts that he can’t understand the words coming out of Eddie’s mouth. “I don’t know how to stop either.”

“I’ll leave,” Buck continues like Eddie hasn’t spoken. “I’ll put in a transfer and go … somewhere. Another station in L.A. … another city, if you want me to go farther. Whatever you need.”

“Buck.” It almost sounds like Eddie is smiling. He sounds so calm, and even with the buzzing in his head, Buck can hear that. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“You … don’t?”

“No, I really don’t.” Eddie lets go but only long enough to turn Buck to face him. “I don’t want you to go anywhere without me. Ever.”

And then his hands are on Buck’s hips, drawing them flush together, and oh shit, Eddie is definitely still hard. Buck searches his face, desperately wondering what he’s seeing. He thought he knew every expression Eddie had, but this one is new. Familiar somehow, like he’s seen something similar before. It’s like when he looks at Christopher. Proud and loving and slightly exasperated but there’s something else too. Something much more. Something hot and liquid and needy. All that. For him.

“I don’t understand,” Buck whispers. He thinks he does. He wants to believe he does, but the thought of being wrong terrifies him.

Eddie smiles and it’s like the sun coming up after a long night of battling a fire.

“I’m in love with you, Buck.” The bald honesty makes Buck’s knees go a little weak, but Eddie’s arms are around him to hold him up, and he’s sure he must be dreaming this.

“I thought you were straight.” It’s stupid but it’s the only thing Buck can manage.

Eddie shrugs. “There were a few guys in my platoon I was attracted to. I didn’t act on it because I was married to Shannon at the time, but I knew it was a possibility.”

“How long?” Buck asks hoarsely. He doesn’t care how long Eddie’s been attracted to men in general. He just can’t seem to get any more words out though, and all he manages is to gesture vaguely between them.

“How long have I been attracted to you?”

Buck nods. It appears the Buck to Eddie translation dictionary is working okay after all.

“Since the beginning. Since you were a total asshole to me.” Buck lets out a scratchy laugh. “But I fell in love with you when I saw you with Christopher. You gave my son your whole heart, and I thought, ‘that’s the kind of person I should be with’. It didn’t matter to me that you were a guy. I just wanted you. I wanted _this_ in my life.” Eddie touches Buck’s chest, right over his heart.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

A shadow crosses his face. “Because I haven’t been ready to move on from Shannon.”

“I would have waited.”

“It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to.”

Buck nods because that makes sense. Of course, Eddie would be worried about being fair. But Buck doesn’t care about fair. All he wants is Eddie. “And now?”

Eddie just smiles.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Buck cups Eddie’s face in his hands, and holy shit, they’re absolutely shaking, but he just stares at him a moment. He’s never felt like he could just _look _at Eddie the way he wants. His gaze traces the lines of his stubbled jaw and his warm dark eyes with the little bit of hazel in them, and Buck’s heart just … stops. Because this moment is so perfect, and he's never felt anything like it. He doesn't know if he should take it slow or draw it out and savor it.

Buck leans in and presses his lips to Eddie’s. The kiss is soft, a brief brush of their lips together, but Buck realizes he’s waited too long for this to be content with soft. He decides he’ll savor it all later. He teases his tongue between Eddie's lips, and when Eddie lets out a needy sound as he allows Buck in, Buck can hardly take it.

His whole body is a live wire, and he can barely breathe as he presses tighter to Eddie and strokes his tongue against Eddie's. Now, he's trembling all over, and his heart is beating so hard in his chest he knows Eddie must be able to feel it against his own. Buck's kissed more people in his life than he can count, but this is Eddie, and it means _everything_.

Eddie lets out a breathless moan and kisses him harder, his fingers digging into Buck's hips, and for the first time, Buck realizes his own cock is hard too. Buck’s been so focused on everything else he hasn’t thought about it once. If he felt hot before, it's nothing compared to how he feels now with Eddie's tongue in his mouth. They grapple at each other until Eddie shoves him back against the bathroom door and kisses him aggressively. Eddie may not have been with a man before but he's not hesitant. There's no fumbling shy touches or indecision. Just a man taking what he's kept pent up for too long and Buck loving every second of it.

They stumble into the bedroom, still kissing, and somehow maneuver themselves onto the bed. Buck's on top and he settles one thigh between Eddie's so their cocks line up perfectly. Eddie slips his hands underneath Buck's sweats, and his grip is hard and needy, like the way he kisses.

"Jesus, Buck." Eddie's voice is strangled, and Buck can't manage words at all when Eddie coaxes him to rock their hips together. He kisses Eddie again because he can, and his eyes droop closed as he focuses on the perfect feeling of their bodies together. Buck would swear no one has ever needed anyone the way he needs Eddie now.

“Shit. I can’t think when you’re kissing me like that,” Eddie mutters against his lips.

Fuck thinking. Buck wants to feel. It’s the heat of a blazing wildfire, and Buck is ready to run headlong in. Only, he has no intention of putting it out. He kisses his way down Eddie’s jaw and scrapes his teeth across the cords of his neck. Eddie shudders under him and grips his ass harder. Eddie pushes him away, which makes Buck’s heart stutter in his chest with fear that he’s changed his mind, but it’s only long enough to shove both their sweats off. And then there’s nothing between them. Just hot skin and hard muscle and all of the things Buck has been dying to feel up close.

“I was dreaming about you earlier, you know?” Eddie slips a finger between his cheeks, grazing the sensitive skin around Buck’s opening.

Buck responds by biting his pec, which makes Eddie grunt. “Yeah?” He licks a stripe across the spot he just bit, and the grunt turns into a moan when he teases his tongue around Eddie’s hard nipple.

“Yeah, I do that a lot. Wake up hard thinking about fucking you.” Eddie sinks his finger deeper, and Buck clenches around him. It’s been a while, but fuck if he doesn’t want it. Now.

“_Need_ you to fuck me,” Buck says, stretching up to kiss Eddie again.

The heat in Eddie’s eyes flares hotter, and his grip on Buck’s hips becomes almost bruising. “I don’t have anything. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ve got stuff in my bag.” Buck’s voice is hoarse, like he’s sucked in a lungful of smoke.

“Get it.” Eddie’s voice is equally rough, and Buck scrambles off the bed. He can _feel _Eddie’s gaze on him as he crosses the room and kneels by his duffle, rifling through it. When he packed for this trip, he’d discovered the lube and condoms stuffed in a random pocket in his bag but had been too lazy to take them out. He’s grateful now, but he curses when he can’t figure out which damn pocket they’re in. Some part of him is afraid that if he’s away from Eddie for too long, he’ll change his mind. But when Buck finally turns back to face the bed, supplies in hand, Eddie is lying on the bed, stroking his cock, and the heat in his gaze makes Buck’s body go up in flames again. No one has _ever_ looked at him like that.

"I didn't plan for this. They’ve been in there a while,” Buck rasps out as he reaches the bed and lets the lube and condoms drop onto the sheets beside Eddie’s hip.

"I really don't care right now." Eddie’s hand is still on his cock, and Buck pushes it away so he can wrap his own hand around it. Eddie hisses when he starts to stroke, and when Buck darts his tongue out to lick at the tip, Eddie’s whole body shudders. Buck laps at the salty-sweet drop of liquid there, making Eddie moan and wrap his hands around Buck’s head. He guides Buck’s movements for a minute—deep, long strokes that push him into the back of Buck’s mouth—and Buck’s balls draw up tight with pleasure at Eddie taking what he wants.

“Too much,” Eddie gasps as he pulls Buck’s head off, and Buck knows exactly what he means. He’s ready to pop too. Eddie reaches for the lube and crooks a finger at Buck. Buck’s heart is absolutely fucking hammering in his chest as he straddles Eddie’s torso. Eddie reaches around his hip, fingers slick as he explores Buck’s entrance. He pushes two inside, and Buck has to brace a hand on Eddie’s chest as he breathes through the stretch. Their gazes meet for a second—Eddie’s questioning, Buck’s reassuring. It’s apparently enough because Eddie pushes deeper as Buck reaches for a condom.

Buck's hands tremble a little as he puts the condom on Eddie and smooths it down his shaft. When it’s on, he strokes a little. Eddie's eyelids flutter shut, and he tilts his head back, exposing his throat. Buck leans down, pressing a kiss to the spot beside his Adam's apple, and Eddie lets out a needy moan.

Eddie slips his fingers from Buck’s hole, then grips Buck’s hips to guide him backward. The second they settle into place with Eddie's cock nudging his opening, Buck is right back where he was a few minutes ago—so turned on he could explode. Though Eddie is careful with him, there's little time for finesse as Eddie pushes up and Buck lowers himself down. Buck has been waiting so long to feel Eddie inside of him. He can’t wait another second so he shoves down until Eddie bottoms out inside him. There's a flare of discomfort, but it's offset by the pleasure of having Eddie so deep inside him.

Eddie stares up at him with this expression of almost wide-eyed wonder, and suddenly, Buck is laughing and kissing him. It all goes quiet though when Eddie shifts his hips and begins to move inside him. Then there's no time for laughter or thought or anything but Eddie driving in and Buck urging him on.

With a suddenness that surprises him, Eddie rolls them over so he’s on top. Buck spreads his thighs as wide as he can, and Eddie braces his forearms beside Buck’s ears as he thrusts deep. A ragged sound tears from Buck’s throat as he digs his blunt nails into Eddie’s back and urges Eddie on. They haven't lost eye contact though, and Buck is filled with heat at the naked need in Eddie's eyes.

Neither of them is going to last long.

The heat from their bodies slicks their skin with sweat, and the sounds Eddie makes threaten to unravel the last remaining threads of Buck’s control. _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he thinks. Although he can’t get the words out, the look in Eddie’s eyes tell him he’s gotten the message loud and clear.

"Buck, I ..." Eddie gasps his name, and Buck wraps his arms around Eddie's back.

"I've got you," Buck murmurs. "I've got you."

Eddie drops his head, and Buck closes his eyes now, focusing on the pleasure of Eddie thrusting deep within him. Moments later, Eddie's body jerks against his, and with a low groan, he empties into the condom. Buck follows on his heels, gripping Eddie's back tightly as he shoots between their bodies.

Eddie rests his forehead against his, and they kiss for a moment, lazily now, spent but not sated. There's too much heat between them for this to be the last time tonight, and Buck imagines he'll be sore as he sits in seminars tomorrow.

He smiles goofily. _Totally worth it._

Eventually, Eddie gets up to throw away the condom, but he returns immediately and wraps his arms around Buck.

"Is it what you thought it would be?" Buck asks a while later after the sweat has cooled on their bodies.

Eddie flips onto his side and raises up on one arm to look Buck in the eye. "Being with a man or being with you?"

Buck meant being with a man, but now he's curious about the other. "Both."

"Being with a man is what I expected. Being with you was better." Eddie rubs his thumb across the birthmark near Buck's eyebrow. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

That clearly includes Shannon, and Buck wonders if that thought made Eddie feel guilty or disloyal to the memory of his wife, but his gaze is warm and unconcerned. If he did, he's clearly dealt with it.

Buck pushes Eddie onto his back and kisses his chest. Eddie cups his head in his hand and rubs softly. Buck teases with his tongue for a minute before he sucks on the spot.

“Shit, Buck. Are you trying to mark me or something?” Eddie sounds amused rather than annoyed though.

“Yes.” Eddie just laughs, and Buck smiles against his chest. This is hot as shit, but it’s fun too. Because it’s Eddie. And he’s so happy he could fucking burst. Of course, there’s still a lot to consider.

Buck lifts his head. "What happens now?"

Eddie smiles at him, and he looks so relaxed that Buck relaxes too. "We figure out how to tell Cap we're dating. We tell Christopher. We listen to our friends give us a lot of shit about what took us so long. When we’re all ready, you move in with Christopher and me. Does that cover it?"

“Yeah, I think so.” They’re LAFD firefighters, and their lives are crazy at best, so Buck isn’t naïve enough to think it’ll all be smooth sailing from here, but at least he’s sure of this part. If he and Eddie are on the same page about all this, he knows they can handle whatever life throws at them.

***

They’re late getting down to breakfast the next morning. First, it was morning sex. Then blowjobs in the shower. And making out while they got dressed.

Even now, Eddie can't keep his hands to himself, and Buck isn't complaining. While they fill their plates from the hotel buffet, he's pressed right up against Buck, from hip to calf, and their forearms brush as they reach for tongs and spoons. Buck’s so flustered he can’t even grasp the tongs properly and grapes shoot back into the serving bowl. Eddie glances over at him, laughing as he spills his scrambled eggs, and for a minute, Buck forgets all about breakfast. _I love this man,_ he thinks.

The woman on the other side of the buffet smiles warmly at both of them. Her nametag says Bosko. "Y’all are cute. How long have you been together?" she asks.

Eddie glances down at his watch and squints. "Uhh, six hours? Give or take."

She laughs, but she looks slightly puzzled too.

"We've been friends a lot longer," Buck explains. "It just took us a while to get here."

Eddie's forearm presses against his, warm and solid, and this tumbling fall into love has finally stopped, and he's steady on his feet.

** _The End_ **


End file.
